— ELLA —
My breath hitched. Sylus?, That was impossible, and even if it was true, what right did she to speak his name so casually like that?
" You're lying," my voice now bitter. I shoved her back against the wall, the blow shaking the frame of the painting next to her as I settled my hand around her throat, unhurried, without tightening it, at least not yet. "Who sent you? Was it Ace?" I looked over her face for the slightest flicker, the tiniest flaw in her composure. She laughed in a low and leisurely manner. "It's rather silly of you," she remarked, "to suppose that he was anything more than an ordinary employee." My nails sank into her skin before I had the chance to stop them. I looked at her, my jaw tight, struggling to prevent myself from cutting that deceitful tongue right out of her mouth. I needed control myself....
I pushed her away with such force that she hit the wall once more and then turned on my heel. "I'll ask him about this myself." The sound of my heels on the marble was interrupted by a sudden pull on my wrist, which threw me off balance. I stumbled and then, behind me, there came an eruption of sound a crash and a shattering- with the glass raining down over the floor like broken ice.
I turned slowly she was standing there, completely calm, with a sharp piece gleaming in her hand. A warmth was running down my temple, and when I touched it, I found that my fingers were stained with blood, as broken glass from the vase was on the floor. I took a step forward, and then another, heels crushing the shards as I grasped a piece from the floor, its edge cutting into my palm. An eerily calm smile settled across my lips as I drove it firmly into her shoulder, felt it go through, noticed her breath catch for a moment, and tilted my head to speak close to her ear. "Try it once more," I whispered, "and the following one goes deeper."
I pulled away, my eyes growing cold, and watched the blood slide down my arm in the form of a thin red line... drip, drip, marking the white marble just as ink does on paper.
She moved quicker than I had anticipated, her palms shoved against my chest, and my heels slipped on the glass which was scattered about, the shards breaking under the soles of my shoes. I managed to catch hold of the edge of the vanity, but the marble was slippery, slick with my own blood, and my grip slipped. My temple struck the edge of the basin with a sick, wet crack.
As the world tilted, I hit the ground hard, my back slamming into the floor and the glass shattering underneath me as I fell. From somewhere far away, I heard her heels slow and carefree walking across the room. Warm blood collected under my hair and seeped over the marble, and my vision started to blur at the edges.
I could see her smirk through the blurred vision. She pressed the phone to her ear in a calm manner, then looked at me as if I were no more than a drink that had been spilled and could be wiped up. "The work is done."
That was the final thing I heard before my body failed and the world then sank into a dark, silent abyss.
— SYLUS —
It was nearly half an hour ago..." Where on earth is Ella?" I was feeling unsettled for some reason, I dialled her number once and then again. "The number you are trying to reach is unavailable." I walked towards the washroom, and it was then that I noticed a crowd had gathered at the entrance, talking in a low voice and leaning forward to get a better view. A frown appeared on my face as I pushed my way through the people, my shoulder pushing past them, as my gaze landed on her.
There was a pool of blood spreading darkly over the off-white material of her dress. Cuts and marks were visible, together with shards of glass gleaming where they had ripped through the skin. The grip on my phone loosened as I clattered hard onto the floor, feeling my breathing still.
"Ella?"
I couldn't move my body, and my mind was trying to process the scene in front of me. I managed to take one step and then another, my hands trembling more with each inch that brought me closer... the nearer I got, the clearer it was that she was soaked in her own blood. I began to breathe heavily as I sank to my knees by her side, my fingers trembling as they pressed against her skin they were cold.
My thoughts became scattered as they went silent under the force of my pulse beating loudly in my ears. I then took her head into my lap.
"Beloved, open your eyes-s"
"Mio-o amore-? Look-k at me..."
My voice quivered, broken, caught somewhere between prayer and denial as if I were hoping that this would turn out to be a nightmare out of which I could wake. A tear slipped loose and rolled down my cheek, falling on her cheek. Under my fingers I discovered it a pulse, weak and extremely thin, but present.
The people separated as Alex pushed his way through. "Sylus!" He dropped down beside me and quickly examined her with his hands. "We've got to get her to a doctor—right now," he said, his voice slicing through the fog as if it were a blade. I picked her up into my arms her body was cold and limp against my chest, her blood seeping through my shirt and warming the areas of her body that were not there.
"No-o No, you can't leave me too."
"Ella..." Her name repeated on my lips like a prayer.
"If there was God, just-t please don't take her away-y from me, I beg of you-u"
My tears fell uncontrollably as I called out for her again and again as we ran, got into the car, and headed into the night. Throughout the ride, I held her, rubbing her hands and feet, and pressing her thin, motionless body against mine, hugging her as though my own warmth might be sufficient to bring her back.
"Please, my dearest... look at me..."
"Please- just look at me, I'm begging—," I cried into her shoulder, holding on to her as I pressed the cloth more firmly against the wound at her head, my blood staining red because of it, as though the pressure by itself could hold her together and prevent whatever was left of her from slipping through my fingers.
As soon as we got to the hospital, I was out of the car before it had come to a complete stop, holding her against my chest as if she were something delicate, something that could break, for she was.
"Doctor!" My voice came ripping out of me, in a raw condition. "An emergency!"
A few seconds later they came down—a rush of white coats and gloved hands, lifting her from my arms and placing her on a stretcher, then rolling her down a corridor which at that moment seemed excessively long, excessively bright, and excessively final.
"Let go! Ella-!" I struggled against the hands that were holding me, against Alex's grip, which was around my arms. I want to be with her—
"Stay firm!" Alex's voice snapped like a whip through the mist, confusing my mind. "Sylus- they're trying to carry out the operation. You've got to let them do it."
My knees collapsed under me, and I fell to the floor, my bloodied palm crashing onto the clean white tiles, the blood staining across. "Alex,-" I leapt forward, clutched at his collar, and pulled him down to eye level, my hand still shaking continuously, never stopping. "She won't leave me, will she? Tell me that she won't leave me."
He said nothing, and the silence was more unpleasant than any reply.
"I want to know!" I shouted, tightening my grip and my mind beginning to come apart, one thread at a time! "Tell me, for God's sake!" Alex's jaw tightened as well; although he didn't pull my hand away, he let me keep holding on, as if he realised that I needed something to hold onto, even if it was merely the fabric of his shirt.
"Actually,I don't know," he said in a quiet tone. "I don't know, Sylus, but shouting at me won't make her come out of the room any quicker."
The words felt heavy like a slap of harsh reality. I might have been angry about a lie, but the truth that I didn't wanna know.... I relaxed my grip. My hand moved down from his collar and dropped loose into my lap, remaining red and shaking. I looked at it as if it belonged to some other person, since the blood must have dried in the lines of my palm and could not possibly be hers. Alex crouched down in front of me, held onto my shoulder, and made me look at him rather than at the doors behind which she had disappeared. "Breathe, she's a fighter, you know that better than anyone."
I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to. I turned my head towards the doors of the operating room, hoping they would open and someone would come out and tell me that this had been a terrible mistake....that she was all right, that she was going to open her eyes and call my name just as she always did, gently and in a teasing way, as if nothing in the world could ever touch her.
The minutes went by until they became intolerable. I have no idea how long I stayed sitting on the chair, my back pressed against the wall and her blood having dried out stiffly against my shirt. Alex sat next to me the whole time, saying nothing but being there, being the only thing that kept me from completely breaking down. Whenever footsteps came near, I would lift my head up. Each time, it was not her doctor it was just nurses.
I was praying....hoping and even begging some higher power that this whole thing was merely a nightmare and that I would wake up any moment now and she would be right next to me, smiling against my chest as she always used to, safe, warm, and alive.
I pressed my face into my palms. "How did it turn out this way?" My own voice seemed strange to me, thin and hollow. "How—"
"Who did this to her-" I couldn't get my mind to work. It kept repeating the moment I saw her in that bathroom, unable to move on from the picture etched into it the way her body, the blood, the stillness. I wouldn't accept it. I couldn't allow myself to accept it, since accepting it would mean that it was real.
We waited in that waiting room for six hours as they slowly slipped away. A swing of the door caught my attention; the operating room opened, and the doctor came out. I was already on my feet before I had made up my mind to get up and covered the distance to him in a matter of seconds. "Tell me," my voice came out sharper than I intended, desperation seeping into each word. "Is she all right?"
The doctor's face changed momentarily, showing a brief sign of discomfort as he looked at my condition. My hair was messy, my shirt had soaked through and had set with dried blood, and rust-coloured stains were running down my neck and arms, marks which showed that the girl I had carried was the only thing keeping me standing.
"She's in a coma," he said carefully, "though we've done our best, there was too much blood loss... and we don't know when or if she'll wake up."
The words seemed a haze, slowly, each one driving home more deeply than the one before, until nothing at all was left standing in me and the world tilted. "Coma," I whispered, as though the word were part of a language I didn't understand, hoping that by saying it out loud I might discover some hidden meaning which would make it less painful. That didn't happen. "You said if—" My voice broke right in two.
"If she wakes up?"
The doctor needn't have replied. It was my legs that hit the ground first. I could feel myself swaying, and then Alex reached out and caught my arm to stop me from hitting the floor a second time, supporting me in a way that no part of me could manage on my own. My chest rose and fell, the air rushing in and out as if my lungs had lost the ability to breathe, clutching my chest hard, trying to process the words.
I wanted to see her the words burst forth from me before I had even finished thinking them. "Right away. I need to see her-"
"Sylus-" Alex's grip tightened.
"Now!" I turned angrily on the doctor, and all the composure I still had disappeared, completely removed and leaving behind a vulnerable and dangerous emotion. "Take me to her, please," I said, the "please" coming out broken, no longer a request but instead the utterance of a man on his knees making a plea. The doctor paused, looked at Alex, and then slowly nodded. "Just for a few minutes, since she needs rest."
"Rest...," as if she had merely dozed off, as though it were something as minor and excusable as being tired out. They led me down a corridor that appeared longer than any hallway ought to; the fluorescent lights made a humming noise above and my own bloodstained reflection faded across the glass doors as we passed by. Then I could see her through the window of a private room, surrounded by tubes and monitors, the machines breathing for her since she was unable to breathe herself, her face as pale as the sheets on which she lay.
Before I had reached the door, I placed my hand flat against the glass.
"Ella," I whispered, and this time the only person who could hear me was her, who was silent and motionless, astonishingly far away even though she was right in front of me. I forced my way through the door as though it were the very thing preventing me from getting to her, and then I was by her bed, looking at what was left of her, thin and wrapped in bandages that could not hide how small she looked against the hospital bed, with machines making beeping noises rather than the heartbeat which had used to beat against my own chest.
I gently enclosed my fingers around hers, raised them to my lips, and gave her a tender kiss, saying, "Please, amore...", my voice breaking as I spoke it, almost a whisper against her skin, and I whispered, "Wake up... please—"
She said nothing, but I still stayed there, my forehead pressed over her hand, my tears now flowing freely and soaking through the bandage which had been wrapped around her knuckles, for there was nothing left in me to grasp onto, no barriers, no control, and only the terrible, empty fact that the woman whose presence had once made my chest feel less like a prison might never open her eyes and call my name again.
I never let you treat me in that way. The fact that the words showed how ineffective and attractive they were meant to be meant that, instead of giving an order as usual, I was pleading and clinging to her.
"You promised, you promised that you would stay with me, that you would be there for me..."